


Opposites

by narsus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-19
Updated: 2010-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-12 00:33:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narsus/pseuds/narsus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his own way John Watson is an opportunist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opposites

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss & Steven Moffat and obviously in the genesis of it all to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

They're two opposite sides of the same coin John decides in the morning and having sampled both he's certain he's good authority on it. He shouldn't have done he's sure because it's only going to lead to trouble later on, by mid-morning when he gets home in fact but he's made no promises so he hasn't technically betrayed anyone. He's been comparing notes, with himself, if he really wants to try to make the argument. Contrasting methodologies and drawing up plausibly linked case studies. Two case studies in fact featuring two Holmes brothers, seven years apart and varied in temperament. He's a cad really.

Not that he'd intended for anything to happen. Mycroft had sent for him, for both of them really but Sherlock had refused to go so John had been left alone in the back seat of a limousine wondering why he was being taken to Mycroft's office at that hour of the evening. As it turned out the intention had been a companionable dinner in a private room at a very exclusive restaurant which hadn't been quite as awkward as John had first imagined it would be. Dinner had stretched out into almost four hours of clumsily managing to get along with the elder Holmes brother over an array of food, drink and eventually coffee.

How they'd ended up at Mycroft's house instead of Baker Street John has a reasonable idea because he distinctly recalls using the alcohol as an excuse for boldness. If Mycroft had deflected his advances then John would blame the wine, if he didn't then like any good soldier John was quite prepared to press the advantage. In fact that mindset had been enough to carry the evening along right up until the inevitable chilling realisation sunk in afterwards that while Sherlock might be petulant for a few days after in the face of that sort of determination: Mycroft might be entirely unforgiving.

John had lain on his back, panic setting in when an imperious command had at least put his immediate worries to rest.  
"Hold me."  
Understandably John had done as he was told to for a change.

Thus the next morning he'd woken up to the solid presence of Mycroft Holmes in his arms and the sudden knowledge that somewhere his mobile was ringing.

"He's probably bored." Mycroft commented lazily turning his head to take in John's worried expression. "Of course he knows you're here."  
John didn't have a reply to that.  
"Ask him what he ate for dinner when you get back. I'll guarantee it was cereal." Mycroft laid his head back down on the pillow apparently unperturbed by current events.  
Spooned up behind him John muttered a vague string of curses at the back of Mycroft's head.  
"I'll make breakfast in a minute and then you'll feel better." It sounded distinctly like Mycroft was smiling.  
"Sherlock tells me to go away in the morning."  
"Of course he does: he's tired and he wants to sleep. My brother can be very rude when he wants to be."  
"You ordered me to stay where I was... after."  
"I can be very rude when I want to be as well."  
"Right after sex?" John pushed himself up, leaning on an elbow.  
"Yes." Mycroft didn't seem like he was going to elaborate but when he glanced over his shoulder at John's expression he relented. "I was warm and comfortable and you looked like you were going to run off, and I wouldn't have liked that."  
"So you ordered me to stay." John mulled it over, expression pensive.  
"I ordered you to stay in the same way that Sherlock orders you to get out of his bed in the mornings. Why are you so surprised? We _are_ brothers after all."  
"After, I mean right after he doesn't tell me to get out."  
"I imagine not." Mycroft chuckled.  
"Not like that!"  
Mycroft rolled over on to his back, still smiling. "You're being very guilty for someone who only hours ago was telling me to get onto my hands and knees so that you could-"  
John groaned and covered his face with a hand.  
"Breakfast then? I'm afraid I don't have any bacon so it'll have to be croissants and jam."

Opposites is the right comparison to make. Sherlock requiring a firm hand and a little gentle coaxing while Mycroft prefers seduction and then a show of almost martial dominance. It's almost as if their personalities reverse in some ways when John considers it. In bed Sherlock is mild while Mycroft is wilful, afterwards Sherlock wants comfort while Mycroft wants obedience, and then the following morning Sherlock is petulant while Mycroft is gracious. Sherlock ignores John in favour of more sleep while Mycroft goes to make him breakfast.

When Mycroft returns with breakfast John finds himself feeling uncomfortably conscious of his own nakedness in Mycroft's rumpled bed since the elder Holmes is now modestly covered by a paisley dressing-gown. Mycroft hands over a plate to John without comment and sets the tray with two mugs down on the bedside table.  
John eyes the two croissants split down the middle, buttered and spread with jam. "You know they make these with butter already."  
"Your tea is organic." Mycroft answers a little defensively as he pulls up a chair beside the bed.  
"You drink organic tea?" John manages to ask through a mouthful of what's going to be a very rich breakfast.  
" _Your_ tea, I said. I have coffee."  
"Oh."  
Apparently mollified by John's confused expression Mycroft smiles again, one of those little half-smiles that lift the left side of his mouth first before transforming his entire appearance. "Californian coffee. With two sugars and two spoons of clotted cream instead of milk." He concedes.

By the time John gets back to Baker Street it's just gone lunchtime and he can hear the sound of the TV as he mounts the stairs. Sherlock sits with his back to the door, feet pulled up onto the chair, a plate balanced precariously on his knees. He's eating a brown bread sandwich with bits of lettuce sticking out at the sides as far as John can see. The contrast between the brothers is obvious right down to the smallest detail, John realises.

"I'm back." John hovers near the door, unsure of what sort of a response to expect.  
"How was Mycroft?"  
"Good. He's good." When that doesn't prompt further questioning John shrugs off his jacket and makes for the kitchen, turns the kettle on and then comes back into the living room expecting there to be more to come.  
Sherlock waves him over carelessly.  
Leaning his hip against the back of Sherlock's chair John peers down at him.  
"Peet's Arabian Mocha-Java. With sugar and clotted cream."  
"What?"  
"Mycroft's coffee. I can smell it on your breath."  
John clamps a hand over his mouth.  
"And that body wash he always puts out for guests."  
"He..."  
Sherlock holds up a hand towards John, palm downwards.  
Gingerly John bends down to sniff for a scent and is surprised to recognise it.  
"He always sends me some when he feels that I'm being _difficult_." Sherlock tilts his head back, takes in the visual of John carefully bending over his hand and gives John an arch look. "I suppose he did that thing-" Sherlock brings index and middle fingers together at a specific distance from his thumb. "-that he does."  
John's surprised cough almost chokes him.

Thankfully the kettle clicks off at that exact moment letting John retreat to the kitchen and pretend to be focused on his tea while he tries to process the knowledge that the Holmes brothers know far too much about each other's sex lives. He's so wrapped up in deliberately trying not to think about what that might imply that he never does get around to asking Sherlock if he ate cereal for dinner last night.


End file.
